


fireproof

by thearcherballet



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Implied Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 23:39:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3268604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thearcherballet/pseuds/thearcherballet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her touch is flammable, every inch of skin her fingers skim over is like a heat wave through your body.  Her lips are blazes against your inexperienced, gentle ones, and you feel engulfed, they travel around your mouth, exploring your tongue, cheeks, and teeth in a passionate adventure.  (a sort of spin off of 'it's not an illusion')</p>
            </blockquote>





	fireproof

She was all fire, tearing down everything and anything on her path.  She wishes it were destructive, but instead it swallows you whole, immersed by the flames she spouts off when you’re around. 

Her body is a hearth you did not mean to burn yourself with, but it called to you, and in her presence you’re a mere moth. 

Her touch is flammable, every inch of skin her fingers skim over is like a heat wave through your body.  Her lips are blazes against your inexperienced, gentle ones, and you feel engulfed, they travel around your mouth, exploring your tongue, cheeks, and teeth in a passionate adventure.

She was fire, and you would love to be immersed by her if it meant receiving the loving warmth she brought.

You start to wonder if you could actually burst into a midnight bonfire in this secluded corner, but it turns out that when her hands travel to your aching, naked chest you turn into a crackling winter fireplace, slow and comfortable warmth, and you want more of it.

When your hands roam to her thighs, under her skirt, your name is a spark coming out her lips against your bare shoulder, hot wet kisses trailing down to your nipples, and you sigh at the sound of your name, because it almost sounds poetic coming from her.

You find that your name is the most wonderful sound when it comes out in breathy gasps when you find her searing center.  And you feel you could melt, right then and there, turn to dust and let the wind take you to greater places, but like an arsonist fascinated by the crumbling remains of a smoking building, she keeps you tethered.   It makes you wonder if when she comes, does she feel the sibilant fireworks you feel whenever she unravels you.

And she pleads, pleads so you finish her, and you never thought a fire could be as beautiful as she is when she’s about to get to the point of no return.

She crumbles all around you, her entire being vibrating, and you think she becomes an explosion, all red, and it’s not painful, it could never be painful when you wish you could see her like this over and over again, and you just might die when she puts your fingers in her mouth, sucking the taste of her from you. 

And you realize you’ve fallen, hard, harder than you’ve ever known for this great ball of fire, hotter than the most potent Firewhiskey they could ever serve her.  You could lick every last drop of it and it would never equal the feel of her. 

Because she is fire, and she has torn you apart, swallowed you whole, engulfed you in her ardent flames.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to sophie i couldn't take off my mind a follow-up to "It's Not An Illusion" of Marlene & Lily.... this is from marlene's perspective... thanks for reading! :)


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